—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down for Form Fiddlers' Friday!
SUMMONS
What is that soft uncanny light
that wakes at night?
It seems to bloom
in my small room,
to wander down the waiting hall—
no muffled call,
but just the wink
of light, a blink
and I’m alone with only dark;
a dwindling spark
that tweaks the mind:
What is that soft uncanny light
that wakes at night?
It seems to bloom
in my small room,
to wander down the waiting hall—
no muffled call,
but just the wink
of light, a blink
and I’m alone with only dark;
a dwindling spark
that tweaks the mind:
“come find, come find….”
IDEAS OF ORDER
She sang beyond the chaos of the sea,
a Field of Flags wind-blowing on the Mall.
She took the mask off, and how young was she
speaking her trust in winter’s spring from fall.
Can such words matter? Can their rhythm be
a summons, and her rhyme a marching call?
A rap on every ear; the key, her voice,
her song: O come together, it’s our choice.
for Amanda Gorman with apologies to Wallace Stevens
She sang beyond the chaos of the sea,
a Field of Flags wind-blowing on the Mall.
She took the mask off, and how young was she
speaking her trust in winter’s spring from fall.
Can such words matter? Can their rhythm be
a summons, and her rhyme a marching call?
A rap on every ear; the key, her voice,
her song: O come together, it’s our choice.
for Amanda Gorman with apologies to Wallace Stevens
FOREST HOME
A small house with cedar-shake shingles sits
among conifers. The house never grows
as forest presses it close and closer,
an ever-green comforter in windstorm,
sunny weather. The trees reach for sky, for
sun. The house sits in shadow. Rain will run
off its roof, its cedar hair as if house
could ignore deluge and drought. Year by year
trees put on another ring inside their
bark, growing close and closer surrounding
house to claim it, timber, lumber and shakes.
Might their roots raise this house above itself
for a grand, loftier, shakier view?
A small house with cedar-shake shingles sits
among conifers. The house never grows
as forest presses it close and closer,
an ever-green comforter in windstorm,
sunny weather. The trees reach for sky, for
sun. The house sits in shadow. Rain will run
off its roof, its cedar hair as if house
could ignore deluge and drought. Year by year
trees put on another ring inside their
bark, growing close and closer surrounding
house to claim it, timber, lumber and shakes.
Might their roots raise this house above itself
for a grand, loftier, shakier view?
JANUARY WOODS
Our home-fire fades by evergreen
woods, between
ash-pile and star.
The door ajar,
let’s walk out under shrouded moon.
Don’t ask, “how soon?”
The answer: “Wait.”
A broken gate.
For now, our earth’s as heaven-cold
as sun’s spent gold.
Just walk and gaze—
these woods amaze.
Our home-fire fades by evergreen
woods, between
ash-pile and star.
The door ajar,
let’s walk out under shrouded moon.
Don’t ask, “how soon?”
The answer: “Wait.”
A broken gate.
For now, our earth’s as heaven-cold
as sun’s spent gold.
Just walk and gaze—
these woods amaze.
MAIN STREET, JANUARY
Stuffed white bear
in sports store window—his lair
is fake green camo. He’s caught
mid-snarl, mid-thought: cold, free air.
Stuffed white bear
in sports store window—his lair
is fake green camo. He’s caught
mid-snarl, mid-thought: cold, free air.
WIND CHIMES IN THE RAIN
A slickered clerk comes out the door, climbs
up to hang the morning-times
of silver wind chimes.
Metal rhymes
ring
through wind and rain, drought and summertimes.
Through the low-times and high-times
of silver wind chimes,
metal rhymes
sing.
A small girl leaps for puddle joy-times
and the storm plays its primetimes
of silver wind chimes.
Metal rhymes
fling!
A slickered clerk comes out the door, climbs
up to hang the morning-times
of silver wind chimes.
Metal rhymes
ring
through wind and rain, drought and summertimes.
Through the low-times and high-times
of silver wind chimes,
metal rhymes
sing.
A small girl leaps for puddle joy-times
and the storm plays its primetimes
of silver wind chimes.
Metal rhymes
fling!
Today’s LittleNip:
FLURRIES
—Taylor Graham
this snow cloud morning
across my windshield a blizzard
of little brown birds
______________________
Thanks to Taylor Graham this morning for her timely poetry, including “Ideas of Order” for Inaugural Poet Amanda Gorman. Taylor has also sent us some forms: a couple of Minutes (“Summons” & “January Woods”); an Ekphrastic poem/Blank Verse (“Forest Home”); an Ottava Rima “(Ideas of Order”); a Triquint (“Wind Chimes in the Rain”, after last week’s Fiddlers’ Challenge); a Rannaigecht Mor Gairit (“Main Street, January”); and a Haiku.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! Each Friday for awhile, there will be poems posted here from some of our readers using forms—either ones which were mentioned on Medusa during the previous week, or whatever else floats through the Kitchen and the perpetually stoned mind of Medusa. If these instructions are vague, it's because they're meant to be. Just fiddle around with some forms and get them posted in the Kitchen, by golly! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for links to definitions of the forms used this week.)
It’s no secret that Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) is very prolific with forms these days, and this week he was, with Taylor Graham, our only form contributors. (Well, Carol Louise Moon sent in a Haibun and a Tanka, but I elected to keep those in her post for yesterday.) So here are some of Carl’s forms for this week:
A Triquint, last week’s Form Fiddlers’ Challenge:
ALL TOO REAL
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
men who could never make their own bed
sire children, once three times wed
virus we all dread
but instead
dolls
our celebrated, rambunctious head
of state, no use for the fed
virus we all dread
but instead
hauls
hundreds of thousands of people dead
none were from bullets of lead
virus we all dread
but instead
walls
FLURRIES
—Taylor Graham
this snow cloud morning
across my windshield a blizzard
of little brown birds
______________________
Thanks to Taylor Graham this morning for her timely poetry, including “Ideas of Order” for Inaugural Poet Amanda Gorman. Taylor has also sent us some forms: a couple of Minutes (“Summons” & “January Woods”); an Ekphrastic poem/Blank Verse (“Forest Home”); an Ottava Rima “(Ideas of Order”); a Triquint (“Wind Chimes in the Rain”, after last week’s Fiddlers’ Challenge); a Rannaigecht Mor Gairit (“Main Street, January”); and a Haiku.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
It’s no secret that Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) is very prolific with forms these days, and this week he was, with Taylor Graham, our only form contributors. (Well, Carol Louise Moon sent in a Haibun and a Tanka, but I elected to keep those in her post for yesterday.) So here are some of Carl’s forms for this week:
A Triquint, last week’s Form Fiddlers’ Challenge:
ALL TOO REAL
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
men who could never make their own bed
sire children, once three times wed
virus we all dread
but instead
dolls
our celebrated, rambunctious head
of state, no use for the fed
virus we all dread
but instead
hauls
hundreds of thousands of people dead
none were from bullets of lead
virus we all dread
but instead
walls
—Public Domain Illustration
A Triversen:
BRIGHT NEW DAY
—Caschwa
sunlight greets the windows
like dad coming home from work
dinner cooked and ready
his orbit includes family
a wife and three sons
he shares his warmth with each
we hear the stories he brings home
about executive biggies
who don’t know the small things
there are matters he cannot tell us
because they involve secrets
and he is very careful
he spends periods of time alone
talking on a mike, or tapping a code key
at his ham radio station in the garage
sometimes he disappears to the rooftop
to adjust an antenna, over and over
we smile when he safely returns to ground
—Public Domain Illustration
A Haibun:
THE ONE-BOOK SCHOLAR
—Caschwa
thanks to my folks, we have
an encyclopedia handy, right
here at home in the living room
such a collection of books is
a storehouse of knowledge,
and we have an open account,
no limit at all
we keep sharpening our reading
skills to include more and more
words, and happily pull out one
or another volume to get answers
that is not enough?
what additional sources?
now everything’s screwed!
Fish Taco
—Public Domain Illustration
A Haibun reversed, with the haiku at the beginning:
ON EVERY CORNER
—Caschwa
here I am holding
the new Book of Forms bible
upside down, of course
the site is an abundantly
popular taco stand where
I used to park my bicycle
and order a marvelously
delicious taco for 19 cents
this scrumptious treat was
not on the menu at home,
nor available in my school
cafeteria, nor in any vending
machine on this planet
how could I not grow to love
the people and culture that
brought me such a uniquely
wonderful experience?
ON EVERY CORNER
—Caschwa
here I am holding
the new Book of Forms bible
upside down, of course
the site is an abundantly
popular taco stand where
I used to park my bicycle
and order a marvelously
delicious taco for 19 cents
this scrumptious treat was
not on the menu at home,
nor available in my school
cafeteria, nor in any vending
machine on this planet
how could I not grow to love
the people and culture that
brought me such a uniquely
wonderful experience?
—Public Domain Cartoon
And a Spenserian Sonnet:
HOPE IT GETS THERE
—Caschwa
package on porch for addressee unknown
took to post office, return to sender
back to the coop from which the bird had flown
today, again, story a no ender
addressee not me, but female gender
sent email to company that shipped it
in case they had solution to render
they’ll have it picked up, and then will commit
to redeliver package to porch more befit
__________________
Thanks to SnakePals Taylor Graham and Carl Schwartz for their brave fiddling this week! Would you like to be a SnakePal? All you have to do is send poetry—forms or not—and/or photos and artwork to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post work from all over the world, including that which was previously-published. Just remember: the snakes of Medusa are always hungry!
__________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
A Brevette Chain (in other words, more than one; don’t have to relate to each other, but make each one vivid—you’re poets, after all): www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/brevette.html
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Blank Verse: literarydevices.net/blank-verse OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-the-difference-between-blank-verse-and-free-verse#quiz-0
•••Brevette: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/brevette.html
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Minute Poem: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/minute.html
•••Ottava Rima: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/ottava-rima-poetic-form
•••Rannaigecht Mor Gairit: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rannaigecht-mor-gairit-poetic-forms
•••Spenserian Sonnet: poetscollective.org/everysonnet/spenserian-sonnet
•••Triquint: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/triquint.html
•••Triversen: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/triversen-poetic-form
____________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
